


I Grip You Tight But You're Slipping Out

by nothinglasts222



Category: Adam Levine (Musician), Blake Shelton (Musician), Shevine - Fandom, The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Emotional, Fanfiction, Hospitals, M/M, OTP Feels, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-03-31 16:51:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3985591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothinglasts222/pseuds/nothinglasts222
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And just like that, he's gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Grip You Tight But You're Slipping Out

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this written for a while but just got around to finishing and publishing it. I literally wrote it in one night. I must have been in a dark place.

Adam gets the call when he's less than a mile from his house and several from the hospital. That doesn't stop him from throwing on the brakes, spinning his little sports car around, and racing back in the direction he came. 

He doesn't even realize he's started to hyperventilate, and he has to force the slow, deep breaths that will prevent him from blacking out and losing control of the vehicle, from potentially crashing.

_Crashing._

_An accident._

The words ring hollow in his ears, repeating themselves over and over again until he can no longer stand hearing them and he just screams. Screams until he forces out all the air he didn't think he had and then starts to suck in more, tries to calm back down, but he can't. He can't and he's not even at the hospital yet. He's not quite sure he'll be sane when he gets there. _If_ he gets there. Friday night L.A. traffic is a bitch and he's finding things to take his anger out on left and right, the steering wheel, the floorboard, the drink in the cup holder, sending its content flying. His jaw clenches tight, then he finally hits a clear spot and floors it, reaching nearly twenty over the speed limit but fuck it, let a cop try to stop him. It's a risk he's willing to take. To hell with consequences. 

He spots the blue _H_ sign, then bright lights. Lots of ambulances. He parks as close as he can get and sprints to the emergency entrance, weaving his way around people until he makes it the front desk. He's breathless by the time, and not just because of the run. 

"Where is he?" he asks hastily, trying to keep the fear from his voice.

"Who?" a young nurse responds.

A legitimate question, of course, because the hospital is full with hundreds of people and she couldn't possibly know who Adam was there for. But to Adam, Blake's the only one who matters. 

"Blake Shelton."

She turns to talk to another nurse. Adam taps his foot impatiently, reaches up to wipe off the sweat that has accumulated on his forehead, and curses in his mind. They're not fast enough, never are, always seem to take their sweet time...

"Where the hell is he?" he shouts.

The same nurse whips back around, startled, a worried look on her face. 

"Please sir, hold on, we're trying to get that information for you," the other woman says.

As soon as they turn their backs again he's off, slamming into the swinging doors and running down the hallways. The place is quiet yet deafening, the long white walls making him claustrophobic, the blood pulsing in his ears doing nothing for his sanity. He's frantic now, can't find Blake, _goddammit_ , he can't find him and he's going to be sick right on the floor if he doesn't soon. 

He's slowed to a fast walk, looking in every room he passes. He hears people talking in the distance, then stops when he comes to a room where a group of doctors and nurses are huddled in a circle. His heart has quieted its unrelenting pace and he can hear machines beeping and quick, worried voices. 

He barges in and gets one glimpse of the body lying on the gurney before a man's hands are on his chest, forcing him right back out. He saw enough to know that it's Blake. In whatever form, it's Blake. 

"Get your fucking hands off me." He pushes the man and reenters the room. "Blake!" 

"You can't be in here." Another man grabs his arm forcefully and starts walking, but when Adam refuses to budge, he has to practically drag him from the room. 

"I need to see him!" He shouts desperately, in a futile attempt to change their minds. 

"I understand. But you can't right now. You need to go back out into the waiting room and a nurse will call you when he's ready for visitors."

"I'm not a visitor, I'm his-" He stops himself, because he realizes they haven't told anyone about them yet. He wasn't sure when they were planning on it, but now wasn't the time to announce to the world that Adam Levine and Blake Shelton were a couple. "I'm his friend," he finishes meekly. 

Finally Adam stops his protest, realizing it won't do him any good. He walks away, back down the maze of hallways, back to where he first started. The blinding white is replaced by carpet and floral wallpaper, and he takes a seat where he can see the door head on. 

***

It's too long of a wait. Way too goddamn long. The time does nothing but further feed Adam's nerves, and by the time a nurse calls his name, his skin is crawling and his senses are elevated once again. 

His stomach has been clenching itself into painful knots but he bites back the feeling of nausea as the nurse leads him back to the same room he was in earlier. A doctor greets him at the doorway, forbidding him from entering. 

"Please let me see him." He all but begs. 

"Hold on. Let me explain what happened."

It's then that Adam realizes he has no idea what happened. All they told him was that it was a car accident. He knows nothing else. 

"How is he?"

The doctor avoids the question. "He was in a crash involving a head-on with another truck. Both were completely totaled. The other driver was killed instantly. Your friend is in critical condition. We've got him set up to be monitored 24/7. He's not breathing very well on his own. He sustained multiple broken ribs, a broken collarbone, a concussion, and numerous blows to vital organs."

The lump in Adam's throat tightens. He can't breathe. He wants out. He keeps thinking that any second he's going to wake up from this terrible dream and Blake will be right back in his arms, smiling that dumb, dimply smile and everything will be okay and-

"With all that said, we believe he only has a slim chance."

He chokes past the lump to get out his words. "A slim chance of what?" His voice sounds strange to him, distant. 

The doctor hesitates, then sighs. "Surviving."

"Then why aren't you doing anything for him! Why aren't you in there?" He's standing around, _telling_ Adam that Blake might die but not _doing_ anything about it. 

"At this point there's really nothing else we can do. Just wait."

_Just wait._

Just wait until he stops breathing completely. Or until his heart stops. Or until he suffers permanent brain damage.

Adam's so fucking far past waiting he wants to scream bloody murder.

"You can see him, if you want. But just know that he's not awake, he may or may not be able to hear you."

The doctor steps aside to let Adam through. He manages to make it inside without passing out, and the door shuts behind him. He's dizzy as he takes in Blake's surroundings, consisting of several machines of various heights, all with wires leading to some place on Blake's body. There's a respirator over his face. A brace surrounds his neck and thick bandages cover his torso and forehead. All white. Everything here is a blur of sickening white. 

He scoots the seat near the bed closer to Blake and slowly picks up a hand. He strokes it, tracing around the tape and IVs. The tears that had been resting unsteadily on his lower lids drop one by one, darkening into a small, round patch on the sheets. So much for being strong. 

His breath shudders in his chest. "Blake? Can you hear me?" His voice is quiet and raspy, but it's all he can pull from his lungs. 

No response. He half expected one, half expected Blake to answer him like usual, like always. He's quickly figuring out that always doesn't mean forever and there's no such thing as forever. There's no forever in him, there's no forever in Blake, there's no forever in them, and that terrifies him. 

He grips Blake's listless hand a little tighter, still mindful of the needles but the urge to somehow become closer to him deepening with each passing second.

"You'll be okay, Blake," he whispers. "I'm here." He doesn't know how much he believes it. He's in bad shape. If he does survive, he may never be the same. 

A loud beeping breaks the quietness. Adam looks around at the machines and spots the one making the sound. 

A nurse rushes in a few seconds later. He watches the numbers and lines move about erratically as she checks first the monitor then Blake, feels his pulse with her own fingers then rearranges the respirator. The machine hasn't stopped beeping. Adam grips Blake's hand tighter by instinct. 

A doctor appears next, rushing over to Blake, crowding Adam out of the way. He takes a few steps back, breaths coming in shallow pulls once again, and wipes a hand across his face to dry the tears. 

"Is he okay? Is it something I did?"

"No, it's his breathing," the doctor says, and for the first time that night he sounds downright scared. 

Suddenly, the machine stops beeping and the monitor falls black. Adam watches it, wills for it to come back to life but it never does, and soon all the others follow, until the room is completely quiet. 

The doctor turns around, his face lined with pain. "We tried everything. But he was in such critical condition. It really would have taken a miracle." He walks slowly over to Adam and lays a hand on his shoulder that Adam barely feels, his body has gone numb. "I'm sorry." Then he's exiting the room.

The nurse walks over to him next. "I'm so sorry. If you want to say goodbye-" she gestures back toward the bed, for all Adam knows is empty. Then she bows her head and leaves the room. 

All Adam can do is stand there, feeling like shit for not having been able to do something, because now it's over. Now it's over and there's no going back, no going back to when Blake left the studio earlier tonight. If he had driven just a little bit faster or slower, he would have made it. Adam could have offered to let him ride with him. _Anything._ Anything but this, anyone but Blake. 

Most of all, there's no going back to _them._ He hates feeling like such a selfish son of a bitch at a time like this but the more time he spent with Blake the more he learned just how much he needed him in his life. 

He turns his head to look at the lifeless lump where Blake's body used to be. He slowly walks over, takes the same seat but this time doesn't take a hand, just stares down at the bed. 

He's not sure how long he stays there, waits as the best thing in his life fades completely away. No one comes by to take Blake away or to tell him to leave. He comes up with a thousand reasons why Blake didn't deserve this, tries to convince himself that it was his fault. Nothing makes him feel better. So he just takes Blake's hand one more time, kisses his cheek, and tells him he loves him. He means all of it. 

And just like that, he's gone.


End file.
